


Science Talk

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, I REGRET NOTHING, Michael is bad at feelings, Porn, Sex Positions, ish, seriously though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "You're taking this really well," Tilly said, a bit wondering.Michael stiffened. "I'm simply recognizing the reality of the situation.""Yeah, but last night we had some hope that we could track Spock's shuttle, now I'm telling you all hope is lost, and you don't even seem bummed," she pointed out. "I mean, Pike's dick must be magic."
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 55
Kudos: 183





	Science Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere between 2.06 "The Sounds of Thunder" and 2.07 "Light and Shadows." This may be the sappiest thing I've ever written.

Michael moaned, gripping the sheets as Chris thrust _in_ , filling her perfectly, pleasure crawling up her spine. He had her legs crossed and bent between them, the balls of her feet resting on his chest, the position new to her...and _spectacular_. She felt so _full_ , Chris' cock dragging across her G-spot with every thrust, so many different nerve endings screaming approval at her. In the part of her brain not melting down, she marveled at how he always found a way to send her flying, no matter when or where or how they did this. 

Like this morning. She'd barely woken up when Chris had nuzzled down her spine, clever fingers finding all her sensitive spots as he'd purred in _that voice_ , "Wanna try something different?" 

The answer was yes. The answer was always yes. The answer was always going to _be_ yes because she couldn't imagine not having this, Chris rocking into her, hair a messy tangle, eyes somehow sleepy _and_ alert, cataloguing all her reactions. He leaned down to kiss her shin, eyes never leaving hers, the look intimate—she could see his own pleasure at the corners of his eyes, in the slackness of his mouth—but also attentive, like he needed to know if this was working for her. 

He thrust into her again, harder this time, and Michael keened and gasped out, "Just like that," her eyes shutting as the pleasure flared bright. 

When they first started sleeping together, Chris had asked her to tell him what she liked...and what she didn't. He said he wanted to know, that he wanted to make it good. So she did, a little halting at first, but he always listened, doing more of what she said she liked and even pulling back when something was too much, when it felt off. It had taken longer for her to mention those things, but he seemed to sense that, too, always _watching_ , so careful, and when she finally did tell him she didn't like something, he never did it again, not once. Over the weeks, Michael got comfortable with it—telling him what she wanted—Chris figuring out how to make her insensate with pleasure and deploying his considerable skills toward that singular goal. She didn't need to say much at all these days, but she did because she knew that was what _he_ liked. 

"Yeah?" he asked in that rough voice, thrusting into her again, harder.

Michael gasped, feeling the stretch in her legs even as her body fluttered around him. Her eyes flew open to meet his, so full of desire. His lips curled, pleased and not even trying to hide it. 

" _Yeah_ ," she breathed, smiling back helplessly, pleasure spiraling through her, hips moving against his, trying to get more. "It's so good."

Chris rumbled his agreement, still fucking her perfectly. She could see the faint shine of sweat dotting his forehead and chest as his hands wandered over her body, one tweaking a nipple, the other dipping down between her legs. 

Michael cried out as he found her clit and tapped it lightly, fire bursting through her, body tightening around him as her orgasm started gathering. 

Chris' breath rushed out of him, getting caught up in the pleasure of it for an instant, before he regained control, focusing. He rubbed careful patterns over and around her clit, making Michael shake. 

"So close," she managed, holding his eyes, one of her hands moving to join the one he had between her legs, wanting the orgasm that was just within reach. 

He actually pulled his hand _away_ , flicking at her fingers—he considered it his gentlemanly duty to get her off himself, thank you—and Michael groaned in frustration. Chris pressed his fingers back to her slick folds, setting off sparks behind her eyes, but he still wasn't actively trying to make her come.

"You're such a tease," she said, the breathlessness of it somewhat undercutting the accusation. 

Chris laughed once and thrust in harder, making Michael's breath catch. "Pretty sure this is the furthest thing from a _tease_ ," he said, breathless and amused, rocking into her again for good measure, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. 

Michael made a high, helpless noise, the stimulation against her G-spot driving her out of her mind even as she was still just on the edge. Desperate, she moved her hand down to where his cock pressed inside her and wrapped her thumb and forefinger around his length as he withdrew, feeling how slick he was—because of _her_ , she realized, the heat of that thought curling inside. Michael squeezed her fingers slightly, increasing the pressure on his cock as he thrust back in— 

Chris' rhythm immediately stuttered, "Jesus Christ, Michael," torn from him like he couldn't help it. 

She kept her fingers where they were and held his gaze, knowing he wouldn't last long, not with the way he trembled against her, the wild look in his eyes.

"Bossy," Chris muttered...and finally relented. He firmed his own fingers, pressing against her clit just as she liked—

Michael called out his name as fire shot through her, orgasm consuming her without any kind of warning, tiny lightning strikes of ecstasy sweeping through her in a shuddering rush. Her motor control failed, hand going limp between them, but Chris was already gasping out his own pleasure, coming in long pulses, sounding almost like it hurt. 

It was only when she started to get her breath back that Michael realized the reason she couldn't see was that she'd shut her eyes. She blinked them open, meeting Chris' gaze—muzzy and blown like he always got after he came—one hand stroking over her leg soothingly to the foot she still rested on his chest. He smiled at her, soft, then dropped another kiss to her shin, mouth lingering there, scratching his stubble over her skin in that way that always made her smile and press into him. Chris laughed at the reaction, delighted. Another moment and he pulled out of her, shifting back, holding her legs so they didn't drop, then lowering them slowly. 

Michael hissed as her legs straightened, not used to being bent in half for that long. Chris flicked concerned eyes over her, running soothing fingers over her hips. 

"I'm fine," she said before he could ask, shooting him a look to reassure him it was the real kind of fine, not the one she told Pollard to get out of medbay. 

He smiled a little and nodded, stretching out next to her, pulling her close. Michael nuzzled into his chest, relaxing against him, breathing the scent of the two of them in and reveling in the little aftershocks of pleasure zipping through her. The sex was always good, but she liked this, too, just basking in how he made her body sing. 

Chris touched her softly, fingertips trailing over her shoulder, down her spine, sending shivers all through her. She pressed back into the touch, making a satisfied sound. 

"I gather you approve of that one?" he asked, a pleased note to his voice. 

Michael scratched a hand through his chest hair, huffing at him. "Like you don't know."

He laughed lightly, pleased and bright. Then he turned and pressed his mouth to her shoulder, kissing his way slowly across. 

Michael ran a hand through his hair, tilting her neck to give him access, sighing at the scrape of his stubble across her skin. 

"There is a downside to that position," he admitted, low, his mouth trailing over her neck almost reverently.

"You can't kiss me," she guessed, smiling when he stilled and pulled back to look at her in surprise. He was relatively easygoing in bed—that had surprised her a little, given that he was the captain—but he overwhelmingly preferred positions where he could not only see her face, but could also kiss her. It was hardly a shot in the dark. 

Chris' brow furrowed. "I'm getting predictable," he grumbled. 

"You do it well," she shot back, leaning up to kiss him, reveling in the press of their mouths, lazy with satiation. 

"Now you're just buttering me up," he said between kisses, pulling back and then diving in for more, like he couldn't help himself. 

"Hey, I already got what I wanted from you."

Chris pulled back, blue eyes sparkling before he leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss between her breasts. "And here I was planning on giving you some more." He followed that up with a kiss to her stomach, gaze pointed. 

Michael's breath caught as heat started building within her again. "Well. Who am I to argue with that?"

Chris laughed and bent his head. 

***

Another mind-stealing orgasm and a shower later, Michael walked into the research lab, her body loose, skin still faintly buzzing. She nodded to Tilly, who was deep into data, her hair already frazzled and it was only the beginning of shift. 

Fondness swept through Michael at that. How very Tilly. 

"Good morning, Tilly," she said with a smile, settling in at the console beside her. 

"It's not, it's a terrible morning, a terrible no-good morning and I object," Tilly said in one long breath. 

Michael's eyebrows rose. "All right, then. Greeting retracted."

Tilly continued on, like she hadn't even heard. "We've tracked every signal, from every ship, every starbase, every wayward probe and there's nothing. It's like Spock's shuttle just dropped out of space somewhere in the Mutara sector."

Michael eyed the data logs Tilly was going through, somewhat curious, before she shrugged off the feeling. If Tilly said there was no trace of the shuttle, then there was no trace of the shuttle. She smiled at Tilly, reassuring. "Then we'll find something else."

"There _is_ nothing else!" Tilly shot back, like she couldn't help herself, frustration leaking from her eyes. 

Michael sighed. "Tilly."

Just like that, Tilly deflated. "I know, I'm sorry, it's just _maddening_. A shuttle can't just disappear."

Michael tilted her head. "The _Discovery_ jumped into a parallel universe. The galaxy is more complicated than we like to think. But what I know is with persistence and hard work, we will prevail." 

It seemed to reach Tilly, who stilled, then studied Michael for a silent moment. "You're taking this really well," she said, a bit wondering.

Michael stiffened. "I'm simply recognizing the reality of the situation."

"Yeah, but last night we had some hope that we could track Spock's shuttle, now I'm telling you all hope is lost, and you don't even seem bummed," she pointed out. "I mean, Pike's dick must be magic."

"Tilly," she said, quelling. 

"For real, though," Tilly went on, completely unfazed by Michael's exasperated look. "If not that, then what?" 

Michael frowned as she considered it, realizing...Tilly was right. Not about Chris' skills in bed—although those were certainly impressive—but about everything else. The loss of the shuttle lead was a big disappointment, yet it wasn't _hitting_ her like it would have in the past. "I suppose we've had so many setbacks, I don't get my hopes up anymore," she said slowly, knowing even as she said it that it wasn't quite true. 

Why _wasn't_ she upset?

"There's a downer," Tilly muttered. Then she visibly shook herself. "I need a break. Coffee?" she suggested, the idea visibly perking her up, as if caffeine and Tilly weren't a terrible combination that drove everyone to distraction. 

"If you insist," Michael said, still probing her own reaction.

"Look at that, the day is getting better already," Tilly chirped, heading for the door. "After all, the rest of us didn't start it off with a magical dicking," she called back, shameless as she always was. 

"Tilly!" Michael called after, getting a laugh. But she sobered as she followed behind, the disappointment still not hitting her. 

Huh. 

***

Michael noticed a similar dynamic as she performed her duties throughout the day. Things just didn't bother her much, even when they should. The loss of Spock's trail didn't make her despair, despite the seriousness of the murder charges against him and the knowledge that Section 31 was also on the hunt. 

News that violence had broken out between the newly-evolved Kelpiens and factions of the Ba'ul should have caused alarm—and did, somewhat—but it didn't fill her with the bone-deep dread she knew it probably should. 

Tyler continuing to pick at Chris—challenging him, seeing everything in the most suspicious, cynical light—would normally cause far more guilt than it did. Even sharing the bridge with him didn't _hurt_ like it used to. 

Everything seemed a little less terrible, just a shade, but enough to be noticeable. To matter. 

And that? That _did_ cause concern. Something was off with her reactions. Tilly had clocked it immediately, but once it got in Michael's head, she saw evidence of it everywhere, about everything. It wasn't specific to one issue. And it didn't seem to be going away. 

As Michael neared the end of her shift, she realized she couldn't just shrug it off. She needed answers. 

***

Pollard stared at her for a long beat. "And?" she finally asked, like she was waiting for the bad part. 

Michael shook her head. This should be obvious. "My reactions are abnormal. Clearly there must be some problem. Perhaps something I ingested on Kaminar is affecting me in an unexpected way."

Pollard blinked at her. "You're here telling me that everything seems _less bad_ and your first thought is that there's a medical issue?"

"It's not an unreasonable supposition."

"Has anyone ever told you to take the win?" she asked, dry.

Michael shot her a look that said _take me seriously_. "Tracy."

Pollard sighed and nodded to the nearest biobed. "I'll run some scans."

Michael nodded in thanks and sat on the bed, lying back so the system could take a blood sample and do its full-body scan. She watched as the holographic displays activated and started analyzing, lightning quick. Pollard swiped through screen after screen, brown furrowed, working through the problem with her usual calm focus. 

Michael just breathed, waiting patiently, sure that the solution would reveal itself eventually. 

Soon enough, the computer dinged, the screens ceasing their endless reams of data, a list of chemical levels appearing in chart form. Pollard _hmmed_ and gestured quickly, another similar list appearing next to it. She looked to Michael, pointing to the left chart. "This is a list of your neurochemicals from your last scan." Then she gestured to the right. "This is now. Your dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin levels are all up, to a statistically significant degree."

Michael sat up, nodding, that sense of satisfaction filling her, of being right. "I knew something was different. What's causing it?"

Pollard looked at her obviously. "You're in love."

"I—what?" Michael stuttered out, her heart pounding oddly in her chest as her mind went utterly blank. 

"In my medical opinion, this is the neurochemical profile of someone who has recently fallen in love," Pollard said, tone now edging on amused. 

Michael just stared, heart still beating wildly as her mind reengaged, an image of Chris flashing before her eyes, smiling down at her in bed, such warmth between them. 

She was in love?

"Have you recently gotten into a relationship?" Pollard asked, pointed, like Michael should be smarter than this. 

"You can tell—that's a _thing_?" Michael asked, faint, embarrassment now dawning. She didn't talk about...this was _personal_. 

"People have been studying the neurochemistry of love for centuries."

"But...it didn't feel like that with—" Michael broke off, not wanting to say _Ash_ , though Pollard seemed to understand. 

She nodded. "It can be different given the situation," she said, uncharacteristically gentle. That gentleness threw Michael back into _the situation_ —stuck in the Mirror universe, pretending to be a genocidal psychopath, fearing death every day. Ash had been a haven amidst it all, she knew that, but it hadn't felt like this. 

She'd never experienced... _this_. Love outside of war. 

"...oh," she finally said, mind still reeling with the implications. She was in love. 

Pollard looked amused again. "I suppose you were right, Burnham. Your reactions are abnormal."

Her amusement only intensified Michael's embarrassment, the sense of revealing too much, getting too personal. Michael cleared her throat and stood, nodding once. "Right. Yes, well. Thank you, Doctor," she said abruptly, heading off. 

Pollard's dry laugh followed her all the way out the door. 

***

Michael walked to Chris' quarters on autopilot, Pollard's words running through her mind, interspersed with flashes of Chris—holding her close in bed, sharing those little looks with her on the bridge, having lunch with her when their schedules lined up, the sense of warmth and safety and desire she felt every time she was with him. 

She couldn't _believe_ she hadn't noticed. Oh, she knew that she thought about him all the time, spent every night with him, sought him out whenever she could, buoyed by the sense of peace and lightness that accompanied his presence or even the thought of his presence—

Which, she supposed, was an answer in itself. 

_She was in love._

Michael blinked as she found herself at his quarters, the doors opening for her automatically, as they had for weeks now, the physical manifestation of Chris' offhand invitation to come here whenever she wanted, to make herself at home. 

She found him at his little meal table, an empty plate before him, still in uniform and reading his PADD. He looked up at her entrance and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, backlit by the stars. "There you are." He set the PADD aside, like she was here now; work no longer mattered. 

Michael reeled at how that made something in her chest flutter. "I got caught up with Pollard," she said absently. 

That dimmed his smile a little, a hint of concern appearing as he stood. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," she said, nodding thoughtfully. By definition, things were more than all right. 

Chris seemed to sense something off, going confused. "...yeah?"

Michael nodded again, eyes trained on Chris, realizing she should tell him. That was the appropriate course of action, right? When you loved someone, you told them. Ash had told her, in his way. She should tell Chris. 

Her heart started beating faster at the thought...so she didn't think. She just started talking. "I noticed that my emotional reactions seemed off, so I had Pollard run a scan," she explained, clocking how Chris' concern deepened at that information. "But she says everything's fine. All she found was elevated dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin, which she says is the normal neurochemical profile of someone in love, so there's no cause for concern." Michael watched as her words landed, Chris blinking in surprise, his concern draining away—

Replaced with _devastating_ warmth. He stared at her, blue eyes sparkling. "I love you, too," he said, calm, yet such a depth of emotion lurking behind it. 

It thudded through her, pulsing in time with her racing heart, relief and joy and desire spreading through her lightning-fast, like nothing she'd ever felt, even as part of her didn't believe it. "You do?"

"I do," he said, so solemn, like this was important for her to understand. He moved to her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. "Of course I love you," he murmured into her hair, like anything else was impossible. 

Michael's head swam at his words, at the solid heat of his body against hers. She savored the touch, the sense of rightness of being here, just like this. She breathed into his chest, trying to wrap her mind around all these _feelings_. "Did you have your brain scanned, too?" she asked, voice a little shaky. 

He pulled back to look at her. "No," he said, soft. "I know what this feels like. But I can get a scan if you want me to," he added, no censure in his voice, just that tone he'd only ever used with her, affectionate and intimate and _warm_.

Michael swallowed against the joyful thing in her chest that felt like it was trying to claw its way out. She shook her head. "That's okay."

Chris nodded back, smiling again. "Okay." He leaned in and kissed her, soft and reverent, like she was something precious. 

Michael made a small noise against his mouth and wrapped her arms around him, pouring all those _feelings_ into the kiss, wanting him to _know_. 

When Chris shifted back, his expression was a little dazed. Michael liked the way it looked on him, so she tugged his mouth back to hers, kissing him some more, nipping at his bottom lip the way she knew he liked. 

Eventually he pulled away, his mouth red, eyes glassy. He stared at her for a long beat. "I'm glad you went to medbay." 

"Pollard was deeply unimpressed," she said, leaning against him, enjoying it as he draped his arms around her and took her weight. 

"It is her way," he agreed, that addictive little smile on his lips, the one that always made her want to smile back. 

"But I was right. I shouldn't feel this good given everything going on." Then a thought occurred to her: "Is this why people are always trying to fall in love? So they can feel like this all the time?"

He blinked at her. "Yes."

Michael considered. "I suppose that's logical."

Chris laughed a little, then kissed her again...and again and again, smiling against her mouth. He pulled back, that sparkle in his eyes. "Of course you'd tell me with science."

"One of the things you love about me?" she teased, reveling in the look in his eyes, the way it sent giddiness buzzing through her. 

"One of the many, many things I love about you," he said, solemn again, like he'd never joke about something so important. 

The words pulsed in her chest, Michael pulling him back into a kiss, wanting to wrap herself in this moment and stay there for a while. 

They could talk science later. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


End file.
